


One More Message

by Lost_Girl_02



Series: One More... [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-adjacent, Character Death is Only Mentioned, F/M, I know I said it earlier but: Angst, Post-Episode: s08e05 The Bells, coping with 8x05 with fanfic, trying to be canon-compliant but with trying to make sense of Jaime's arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Girl_02/pseuds/Lost_Girl_02
Summary: A raven from the South has never brought glad tidings to the halls of Winterfell, and the messages Sansa receives can only be described as “bad” and “worse.” With King’s Landing in ashes, her sister missing, her sworn sword likely to be heartbroken, and thousands dead miles away, Sansa must find the strength to tell her people...starting with a dark-haired squire.Trying to deal w/8x05 so there will be spoilers. Speculation for 8x06.





	One More Message

**Author's Note:**

> So....episode 5 happened and I am currently in the "bargaining" stage of the 5 stages of grief so...coping with fic!
> 
> As the tags say, Braime is only mentioned, because if I tried to write them I would get angry and annoyed all over again. But I'm happy to be back to writing Podsa as the focus of this fic, but this is as true to canon as I could make it, so there will be some decent angst ahead.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this series or if you just jumped in on this fic, I appreciate everyone so much!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own GoT or else Jaime Lannister would not have completely thrown out his character development.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Dark wings, dark words,_ her mother used to say whenever ravens brought news from down in the South. Catelyn Stark might not have been a Northerner by blood, but she had loved the kingdom with all she had and would carry the weight of the contents of a scroll in her heart as if the messages were meant for her.

Looking at the two scrolls in front of her, Sansa remembered those words, her hands shaking as she picked up the first.

She swiftly broke the wax seal in the image of a direwolf, her eyes flying across the parchment, drinking in her cousin's handwriting. The harsh, spiked letters showed the speed with which Jon wrote the horrifying note. Her heart beat so rapidly in her chest that she was surprised it didn't simply give out as her breath caught in her lungs. Sansa was a young woman who had seen terrible things, she was one that terrible things had been done  _to,_ and she did not scare easily. But reading the hurried message from Jon made her stomach turn in a way that it hadn't since she saw her father's head roll on the steps of the Great Sept.

Carefully placing the scroll down, she tentatively reached for the second - this one sealed with an unmarked wax disk - her hands now shaking uncontrollably, and her breath was labored.  _Dark wings, dark words._

If the first scroll had terrified her, the second caused her heart to sink, relief and anger and a heartbreaking grief washing over her so quickly she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Unable to look at the words any longer, she quickly stood up from her desk, striding to the window, hoping the cold Northern air would clear her head. Sansa put her hands on the windowsill, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to steady her own racing heart and tumultuous mind. Soon, she would have to call a meeting with whomever was left of the Northern generals and lords, to tell them of the atrocities happening in the South, and it wouldn't do if her voice shook like a little girl's when she did so.

Steeling herself for the task, she opened her eyes, the Tully blue hiding pain and uncertainty beneath a layer of ice as cold as the North itself. Her eyes gave a cursory glance of the yard beneath her window, and her heart dropped once again when she caught sight of a tall, female warrior, bright blonde hair practically shining in the snowy sunlight.

 _Brienne needs to be told,_ she thought with a single minded determination.  _She deserves to know outside of the confines of a war meeting...she deserves the courtesy of her privacy when she finds out._

Sansa turned away from the window, calling out for one of the stewards. After quickly giving him her missive, one that only stuck in the back of her throat for the briefest of moments before the words spilled easily from her tongue. The Lady of Winterfell was well-practiced in having uncomfortable discussions with all the grace and dignity of the Lady before her.

As the steward ran off, she wasn't sure if she made the right decision, but her instincts told her that she had done the right thing. That she was going to need to tell a...friend before the rest of the North.

The words seemed burned on the inside of her eyelids, their dire meaning eating away at her mind - Littlefinger had told her to fight every battle, everywhere, at all times, but she never could have thought  _this_ would be the outcome.

The sound of footsteps stopped outside her door, and with shaking hands, she tore the thing open before he could even knock, her face softening in relief as she saw Podrick Payne on the other side, his brown eyes locking onto hers immediately.

She ached a bit when she thought of how a month or so ago, she wouldn't have hesitated to throw herself into his arms like she was a child. But now, her hands itched to find his and her breath stuttered in her chest when she saw him, but she kept her heart guarded once again.

The night of the feast right after they had burnt the dead, after they had all said goodbye to their loved ones, had been a somber affair at first. Most had been dwelling on the horrors of the Long Night, and Sansa had been no different, her mind filled with all that they needed to do to recover and rebuild. Even as the mood lightened as the wine flowed with abandon, she kept her wits about her, watching the tension between her brother - well, she had  _thought_ Jon was her brother back then - and the Dragon Queen slowly start to turn from an ember to a strong flame.

She had been unwilling to place herself in the middle of the two as she was in no hurry to get into another argument with Daenerys. The Targaryen Queen had been a great help in the battle against the Army of the Dead, Sansa was able to admit it. They would have lost, quite quickly in fact, overwhelmed by wights, if her dragons had not provided the fire that had lain siege to the dead.

That didn't mean she had to like the woman...or trust her.

She remembered finding the Hound in one of his ever-present black moods, waving off a serving girl who clearly hadn't known the bitterness of Sandor Clegane.

As Sansa had sat down, her eye was drawn in the direction of a girlish laugh, and when she looked to the side, she was greeted with a clear view of Podrick with his arms around two girls, a broad smile on his face. It had been disturbingly easy for her to keep her composure as she turned back to face the Hound - with so many people around, she couldn't afford to be anyone less than the Lady of Winterfell.

But it had still felt like an icy shard was being driven into her when she had seen Podrick with those girls, and as much as she didn't want to presume, she had attended enough feasts in King's Landing to know about what happened when a man went off with a woman.

"Are you all right, my lady?" He asked, his gaze traveling the length of her body and back to meet her eyes. It was not the lecherous gaze of many other men, but he was clearly checking her for signs of stress or injury. The return to formality hurt her as much as words could - she was surprised to realize that she missed the way he would simply call her "Sansa."

 _But,_ she had to remind herself as she ushered him inside the solar, closing the door behind him,  _you were the one that pulled away after that night. You were the one that chose to protect your feelings and dignity rather than bet to ask if he loved you true._

"Do you want the bad news or the worse?" Sansa asked dryly, motioning for him to sit down on one of the comfortable chairs strewn throughout the room. She herself, sank into one on the side of the desk closer to the door - the side usually reserved for those looking to bring business before the Lord or Lady of Winterfell.

It was a silent acknowledgement that she wanted to be on equal ground with the squire for this conversation. She didn't want to be perched behind the desk like some kind of imposing leader, but rather was looking to him as they were simply two  _people_ about to be deeply affected by the news she had received.

"Lord Tyrion would say that there's not enough wine here for the worse news," Pod tried to jape, and she gave him a wan smile at the attempt.

"I don't think there's enough wine in the world for the worse news," she replied, remembering the words her cousin had dashed out onto that thrice-damned piece of parchment, a raven carrying death and violence North.

 _Dark wings, dark words,_ she remembered once again, her mother's voice echoing through her mind, the words engraving themselves in her memories just as the message was burned upon her soul.

"The bad news then, my lady," the squire inclined his head slightly, and he couldn't hide the worry and apprehension in his expressive eyes.

Sansa sighed, nodding shallowly as she looked at her hands, thankful that they had stopped shaking so obviously. But when she opened her mouth, the words she needed to say wouldn't come and the ones she had desperately  _wanted_ to say since that night weeks ago spilled out.

"Did you speak the truth when you said you would..." she trailed off, her confidence failing her as she realized that she had no overt evidence of any kind of deeper feelings he might hold for her. While Sansa highly doubted he was a skilled enough liar to mislead her in such a way, nor was he cruel enough to wish to hurt her like that, it was enough to give her pause. What claim did she have other than that he was sworn to her own sworn sword?

A few light kisses and a kind word did not equal love.

Pod looked bewildered for a moment - as he should be, she did spring the half-formed question on him - as he was likely expecting more dire news to be said. "What do you mean, my...?" But as she looked away, his own voice trailed off, his cheeks burning red. "The feast," he said simply with an understanding nod of his head.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, not enough for the strain or hurt to show on her face, but for long enough that she was able to compose herself before nodding shortly.  _I must seem like such a silly girl,_ Sansa thought.  _Worrying about my own broken heart when..._

"I didn't actually... _lay_ with them," he muttered, and when her gaze snapped to him, she had to hold in a chuckle at how uncomfortable he looked. His entire face had gone a bright red, he could barely meet her eyes, and his hand had gone to his wrist, the wrist where her leather cord was still tied.

Sansa looked at her favor in shock...she could barely believe he was still wearing it, even after the Battle with the Army of the Dead had long been over and done. But, once she tore her eyes away from his wrist to meet his own, she saw the earnestness and desperation for her to believe him.

"I know what happens at feasts," was what she ended up saying. But, after all she had been through, she was unable to take his emotions at face value...she needed to hear the words.

Podrick shook his head empathetically, "I just wanted to get out of there. They're nice girls, so they helped me leave without raising too much suspicion. I know that people might have seen us before the battle, but...the war has ended, and now..." He looked down at his wrist once again, his face falling as he wrestled with the words about to come next. "Now...it wouldn't be proper for someone like me to be seen with you."

As much as it pained her to admit, his words held a bit of truth in them. Before the Battle of Winterfell, everyone's emotions were running high and the threat of death made time seem all the more precious. If she had left the feast with Pod, eyebrows would have been raised, much more so than if they saw a squire with a couple of serving girls. After all, there was still a chance - though she would fight against it with everything she had - that she might have to once again marry for political advantage.

However, as she thought about the two messages from the South, and the implication held within, Sansa thought maybe she should stop using that as an excuse to push Pod away.

She had been decidedly cool towards him in the past few weeks, even though they spoke frequently about Brienne's state of mind, she had always made sure to avoid the issue of the feast and her growing attraction to the squire. It had hurt her to do so, her heart cracking clear down the middle, but she had felt she couldn't risk something like what had happened between the two knights, she had thought that stopping things from going too far would hurt much less than...

But now, now she had realized how much she missed his quiet presence by her side as she walked the ramparts, the glances they would share across the Great Hall during meals and meetings, the lightness only  _he_ seemed to be able to bring out of her.

Reaching out her hand, she nodded in understanding and apology, a tear falling unbidden from an eye. "You come back to me," she whispered, her voice soft yet full of steel, daring now to ask that of him. The words were not a command or an order, but a promise she hoped they would be able to keep to one another.

"Wait for me, dear Sansa," he promised in return, a solemn look on his face, but his lovely brown eyes were full of love...the kind of love that she had never seen directed at her, the kind that she felt swelling in her own chest, soothing her heart's broken edges. He grabbed her hand, moving into a crouch in front of her and rubbing a thumb across her knuckles, his other hand reaching up to brush away a second tear, the pad of his thumb soft against her cheek. "What happened, Sansa?" He whispered, his voice hoarse and rough, his eyes turning wide and scared.

Maybe if she had acted sooner, if she had  _asked him_ about what had happened at the feast sooner, she could have had weeks with him, weeks full of care and affection and love like she had never known before. Because she was past the point of thinking she was just beginning to fall in love with him...she  _was_ in love with the stumbletongue squire.

"There's been a raven, two actually, from the South," she admitted just as quietly, the words heavy on her tongue. "The bad news is that Cersei is dead, along with the Mountain and her Hand, Qyburn...as is Ser Jaime."

She immediately felt his hand tighten around hers, confusion and grief flashing through his eyes, all coalescing in the fierce protectiveness she knew he felt for Brienne. They both knew she would be crushed by the knowledge of Jaime's death, especially if...

"How?"

The simple word held so much weight in the silent room, and although Tyrion's scroll had been brief, he had added how his siblings had been found.

"I only know that he was crushed underneath the rubble of the Red Keep," she shook her head as he opened his mouth, presumably to question how the castle had fallen, but she would get to that later. "Tyrion didn't say much else other than Jaime had already sustained multiple fatal wounds, and that him and Cersei were found...in each other's arms. He said that...that Jaime was trying to save Cersei."

Pod's face dropped at the last few words, his eyes steely in an anger she didn't usually associate with the squire, but it was the kind of anger that was only borne out of a fierce love. Brienne had become like a surrogate mother to him - one that taught him how to kill a man and use a sword, but a mother, nonetheless. They had both seen how deeply in love Brienne was with Jaime. They had both attempted to comfort her that first night after Lannister left for the South, reassurances falling from their lips that  _surely_ he was not going to be with his sister, reassurances that would now hurt the knight more than any physical blow could.

Her own rage bubbled beneath the surface of her skin for the other woman, to have that love reciprocated - and by the gods she had seen with her own eyes how Jaime had loved her - and then to have it taken away with such finality, she could not imagine it.

"He asked me personally if he could stay in Winterfell," Sansa bit out, remembering how the older knight had come to her solar, happiness softening the lines of his face, the affection in his green eyes when she mentioned the female knight offhand. "He had tried to avoid the point, saying he still owed it to the living to help rebuild Winterfell, but Brienne had been the reason he stayed. I'm sure of it."

"Then why would he leave and save... _her?_ " Pod could barely bring himself to say Cersei's name, and Sansa had to agree with the sentiment herself.

Why walk away from happiness, from honor, from  _love,_ to save his power-mad sister?

"Cersei might have a hold over his body, but Brienne...she held his heart in her hand with every swing of Oathkeeper," Sansa replied, unsure if she was even speaking the truth, but she had to believe that she was. She had seen the kind of corruption the wrong kind of love could instill, and from the rumors abound in King's Landing, it was very likely Jaime had loved his sister too deeply at one point in his life.

But, if the vague stories Brienne had told her about their time in the Riverlands were true, she had difficulty understanding that he had gotten a taste of honor and of promises kept and promptly turned tail to run back to that monster of a woman.

"Brienne..." Pod started, his brown eyes bright with unshed tears. She knew how he had looked up to Jaime as well - he was the symbol of a knight, one with copious character flaws, true, but still a knight - and if Brienne trusted him, if she  _loved_ him, there had to be a good man left in him.

They were never able to get the full story out of Brienne about what happened that night, she always staunchly refused to say anything more than the simple fact that he left to go to Cersei. Although, his purpose regarding what he was going to do when he got there had always been unclear...but it appeared it had been to save his sweet sister.

Sansa hated the man who had so callously gone back on everything he had appeared to have accomplished, he had earned redemption in the eyes of maybe the most honorable woman in all Seven Kingdoms, he had fought for the living and abandoned his sister to do so.  _Why would he have gone back to her after all this time?_

"Ser Brienne will be crushed," Pod finally finished his thought, but stood with a grim determination, assuming that the reason she had called him in the first place was that she was asking him to tell the woman.

"I will tell her shortly, but," the idea had formed in her head the instant she saw Brienne in the yard, standing a bit too tall, her posture a bit too rigid, "maybe I can spare her heart the agony."

He looked at her with confusion once again, his brow furrowing as he shook his head. "She would want to know the truth."

"And she'll get it," Sansa promised. Lying came much easier to her now, and this was one occasion she would not hesitate to mislead the warrior woman just a bit. "I will tell her that Ser Jaime was found dead in King's Landing, crushed by the castle falling, with his sister nearby. No one knows why Jaime went south nor how Cersei died just yet." The majority of what she said was true - they certainly would never know Jaime's true motivations behind his decision to leave the North and Brienne would likely figure out for herself that Cersei was probably crushed as well.

She saw the apprehension in his eyes, and she could understand it - if Brienne ever found out the full truth behind how the Lannister twins were found, the fact that Sansa had lied to her might hurt just as much as the truth. But she was willing to risk it to save her friend's heart from complete destruction. It was unlikely that anyone would want to discuss the Kingslayer and the Mad Queen Cersei further than the fact that they were dead, but she still wished to spare the knight even more pain. The woman was strong, but everyone felt the pain of loss and grief and heartbreak deeply.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you, Pod," she admitted, and for a long moment, she considered changing her mind and telling Brienne the full truth. It had been a lie that had started Robert's Rebellion, and it was a lie that was bringing the conflict between Jon and Daenerys to a raging inferno. "But...she doesn't deserve all the pain and misery that comes with learning your beloved is not quite who you thought he was."

Joffrey's tender kisses and harsh words flashed through her mind, and she had to suppress a shudder at the memories, choosing to focus on the man in front of her. A man whose gentle hands squeezed hers tightly, whose eyes conveyed the truth of his affections, who had never spoken a sharp word to her or anyone else, who she trusted to never hurt her.

Slowly, he nodded, and she bowed her head in gratitude. She didn't plan on telling her generals the exact details of how the two were found, simply that it had been confirmed that the two were dead, and hopefully she could ensure that Brienne wouldn't find out that Jaime was probably trying to save his sister.

"What's the worse news?" Pod asked, a hand cupping her cheek and rubbing another stray tear from her skin.

She leaned into his touch, yet she didn't know why she was crying - for herself, for believing she would be able to keep this secret? For Brienne, who would now have to carry the specter of Jaime Lannister with her wherever she went for years, maybe her whole life? For the squire in front of her, agreeing to lie to his knight just to protect her, just because she asked him to? Or for what she was about to say?

"Daenerys burnt King's Landing to the ground," she breathed out the horrific words, the ones that would be seared into her mind until she closed them for the last time. "The bells had been rung and the city had fallen, but she burned them anyways. Thousands of innocents are dead, the Red Keep and nearly all of the city is leveled...wildfire caches no one knew were there were set off in the chaos, burning all of those that the dragon missed...Northern soldiers slaughtering and raping as they moved through the city. There was no mention of Arya...and I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing."

The tears fell freely from her eyes as she thought about her own men doing such vile things to innocent civilians, as she wondered where her little sister was or if she was even alive. She had sent a raven to Jon the morning after the younger girl had left to expect Arya, but there was no way to know if it had reached him in time.  _Would he even know to be looking for her amongst the dead?_ She thought, pushing another sob back down.

Pod's arms quickly went around her, cradling the back of her head with one hand, his own tears wetting the shoulder of her dress. Slipping down from the chair, Sansa joined him in kneeling on the floor of her solar, her fingers grasping at the leather of his shirt, her entire body shaking with grief and terror.

They cried for the innocent lives lost and the not-so-innocent queens. They found comfort in the solidity of each other's form crushed together. They grieved for souls that would never be buried and the ones that were desecrated in the haze of war. They tearfully rejoiced at the fact that they had both managed to escape the carnage of King's Landing.

Sansa could barely believe the words as she had read them, not wanting them to be true, but having said them aloud, having told another person, it made them real. And if they were real, they were given truth and weight and credence. With all that she had seen in her life, it might have been easy to believe the worst in people, but her distrust and distaste for Daenerys did not go so far as to think that she would raze King's Landing after the city had surrendered.

_Dark wings, dark words._

She was incredibly glad in that moment that she had called Pod in before talking to the Northern lords - no matter what, she needed to put on the stoic face of Lady if she was going to win any respect from them. Breaking down into a teary-eyed mess of a girl would not win her any kind of loyalty, she had to be the example for the entire kingdom. It felt like an enormous weight, having to deliver this message.

Soft lips pressed against her temple as Pod hugged her even closer, one hand combing through her loose hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured tearfully, although for what...well, there were so many options.

Sorry that she had to be the one to spread the news of Daenerys' betrayal and the destruction she wrought? Sorry that her sister's life could have already been ended and she didn't even know it? Sorry that there was nothing either could do but wait for more news?

Sansa turned her head, pressing a brief kiss of her own to the nearest length of skin she could reach: his neck. It was a thank you for respecting her judgement and her decision to lie to Brienne, and an apology for even asking it of him in the first place. It was a thank you for not sleeping with those two serving girls and an apology for not talking to him about it sooner. It was a thank you for listening to her troubles and an apology that he had to do so.

She was thanking him for being the one she could turn to and tell her fears to and feel safe with. For pulling her into an embrace without hesitation because he knew that was what she needed at that moment but was too scarred to ask for it.

The message could not be forgotten, and as she pulled back, Sansa drew strength from the knowledge that he would be in the room whenever she delivered the terrible news. The squire might be in the back of the Great Hall as she told the Northern lords and right next to her as she told Brienne, but he would be  _there_ and that was all that mattered.

She would never have to leave him and he would be waiting for her when it was all over.

_Dark wings, dark words, indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to everyone who read this fic! Please don't be afraid to leave kudos and comments/reviews, I love getting them!
> 
> Since the series finale is upon us next week, I hope you all get some rest and prepare for whatever is going to happen. This "One More" series will likely only have one more part to it, but I'm not sure yet, so just a head's up.
> 
> The author's note here is mainly a rant about how they destroyed Jaime's character so feel free to skip over it!
> 
> So I kind of wrote myself into a bit of a corner with all the feast stuff and that I wanted there to still be some tension and conflict between Podsa in this fic, but then I had to come up with a plausible reason for why Sansa had never asked him about it before, so *shrugs* this felt the most in-character to me for them both.
> 
> Sansa's strength has been one of the most interesting parts of her character to develop because it is much more subtle than some other characters.
> 
> -But, the main balance I wanted to strike in this fic was that she was a strong leader/character, but her family is her weakness. So not knowing about Arya is what gets to her.
> 
> -I debated whether she would cry, but I think she would since she does feel like she can let her guard down w/Pod and she is a big sister at heart, who just wants her family to stay alive.
> 
> Jaime's complete reversion of character development...where to begin.
> 
> -So the discussion of why Jaime died w/Cersei is half my own confusion over why he would completely revert back to pre-S1 Jaime and half of Sansa's pissed off POV on behalf of Brienne.
> 
> -Since, this part is in Sansa's POV, it is a little skewed since she doesn't know him all that well, and doesn't know about the pregnancy so she doesn't know to add that kind of context to his actions (not that I think it would change much, but maybe it would soften her harshness)
> 
> -Also, the decision to lie to Brienne caused me a lot more debate than I thought. So many lies have shaped the events of the show, and so I thought Sansa would realize this and worry about the implications. However, I did land on the fact that just not telling Brienne that Jaime had died in Cersei's arms (ugh, it PAINED me to write those words) would do much more good in protecting her than bad. Plus, I get to add my own little bubble of denial.
> 
> -The "hold his heart in her hand" quote, and the direct reference to Oathkeeper with that is referencing that now heartbreaking "it's yours, it'll always be yours" scene in s6 where he's talking about his heart not Oathkeeper.
> 
> So yeah, thank you again to everyone who made it to the bottom of this A/N mini-rant and for reading my coping fic.
> 
> See you after the finale!


End file.
